


Points 6 Through 8

by Annehiggins



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:19:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some vague time after the season 1 finale, John and Rodney argue about their future. Posted to Live Journal June 8, 2005 (my very first entry.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Points 6 Through 8

**Author's Note:**

> I adore McShep and think some of the best writing in all of fan fic came out of it. I still read it to this day, but I only wrote two stories of my own. Not certain why, but I guess I was too busy having a blast reading.

  
**Points 6 Through 8**  
By Anne Higgins

Life is ironic. The Lieutenant Colonel Formerly Known as Major John Sheppard understood this. Hell, more than once he'd wanted to start the Cult of Murphy's Law and acknowledge the true all powerful force of the universe. Given this he would really have appreciated it if the damned Pegasus Galaxy would stop taking such absurd delight in proving the raw depths to which irony and Murphy could sink in a never ending quest to drive him stark raving mad.

He sighed inwardly. Of course the existence of the Wraith should have been more than enough to prove the point. While he would never forgive himself for the part he'd played in bringing them out of hibernation and back into full-blown nightmare status, he could occasionally manage to sit back and see them as part of some cosmic-level game of one-upmanship. Milky Way got the Goa'uld, Pegasus got the Wraith. Hard to say which was worse - although a sense of pride in his own constant threat to life and limb had him betting on the Wraith. In any case, that really should have been enough to deal with. Instead it was a mere hiccup on the Murphy scale. Probably something like corollary 560 – there is always a boogieman. And big and bad as the boogieman was, it didn't seem to be entertaining enough for the gods of irony and their insidious plans for John.

Of course, if any of the resident shrinks ever got wind of thoughts like that, they'd sadly shake their collective heads and declare him unfit for duty with comments about the Pegasus Galaxy finally getting to him. Unfortunately it had started long before he'd heard of Stargates and the SGC. Near as John could tell it, outside of the petty annoyances of childhood, it really all started during a post-gym collective shower when fifteen-year-old John Sheppard had noticed he really liked the look of his teammates' cocks. A mind-blowing moment for any boy, but an especially strong one for a kid who already was planning a career in the air force and to hell with what his father wanted. Fortunately for John's sanity, he'd also really liked the looks of the opposite team's equipment, too. After that he'd poured most of his energy into those who came with the military-approved breasts and creamy thighs. Still it never made the itch in his backside go away and he'd risked scratching it a few times. Not the best of all worlds, but a solution he and, more importantly, his career could live with.

Then the Pegasus Galaxy decided to get cute. Oh, it had sent an impressive number of beautiful alien women his direction. Unfortunately, it had also sent Dr. Rodney McKay. At first John had tired to compartmentalize McKay – the man was a brilliant scientist, if a bit soft around the middle and, to put it delicately, a touch less than brave. Except McKay had pretty much shattered the walls of that tidy little compartment almost as soon as John had built it. Next he'd tried to ignore the man in those rare few moments when McKay wasn't saving their collective hash. Big time failure – the aggravating mixture of brilliance and egotism that was Rodney McKay could not be ignored.

Of course, John was no slouch in the brains department either. And high on the list of smart things to do was resisting the impulse to stare at another man's crotch. No matter how promising it looked. Instead, he had learned to watch hands. And damn Rodney had great hands -- thick long fingers that danced with enthusiasm whenever McKay was going on about some major discovery or another. John contemplated the correlations between certain pieces of anatomy and really missed the Internet and all those sex toys a man could buy at the touch of a button. Spineless wonder that he was, he hadn't dared bring anything of that sort from Earth. Never knew when a duffle would end up getting opened at an inopportune time.

While the lack of plastic substitutes was unique, the situation really wasn't. Well, if you didn't count the Wraith and the whole galaxy far, far away thing. He'd admired more than a few 'hands' in his day and he knew how to compartmentalize his needs even if he couldn't keep aggravating scientists in their place. No sweat, no problem, and remember the breasts and creamy thighs. That got him into trouble often enough, but at least he could work with Rodney and keep his own cock nice and flaccid. As the military intended it to be.

Which brought him back to irony and the fact that Murphy had it in for him. He couldn't help but mentally whine about the use of Kavanagh as the vehicle of his undoing. Of all the worthless jerks John had ever met, Kavanagh took top honors. How the hell the jackass had gotten assigned to the expedition, John would never understand, but his lack of understanding had grown to amazing heights after said jackass had almost gotten John killed.

Jerkanagh had been playing his usual game of trying to prove he was smarter than McKay. As if that could ever happen. Seemed he'd found an Ancient device and instead of handing it over to Rodney, he'd decided to analyze it himself. Lacking the Ancient gene – artificial or otherwise – analyzing it himself meant shoving it into John's hands when John had suggested calling McKay. Had turned out to be some sort of static charge doohickey which had promptly discharged the moment John had touched it.

John had come to with Carson Beckett poking at him. Much as he liked the doc, this sort of thing was really high on the list of Things John Sheppard Really Hated. The overall feeling like he'd been kicked in the chest by something large and four-legged did nothing to improve his mood. Although John did take absurd delight in finding McKay hovering nearby. "What happened?" Doctors McKay and Carson demanded at the same time. John told them while simultaneously plotting how he could get Weir to approve hanging Kavanagh by his thumbs for a week or six.

McKay's stillness drew him out of his plotting. The man's face had gone white with obvious rage. "And then I sort of woke up here," John finished his voice tapering off as he took in the full effect of an enraged McKay. _Wow._

Rodney didn't say a word. Instead he turned on his heel and stormed out of medical. John wanted to follow, but Beckett stopped him. "Not so fast, Colonel. You're not ready to go gallivanting around just yet."

John would have argued if his legs hadn't pretty much tried to buckle the minute he stood up. It took another half hour for both Carson and his own body to agree he was free to go. Although Elizabeth Weir's summoning him to the conference room might have helped. No way was John missing this. Something told him it would be quite a show.

*

When he entered the room, the tension begged for a cut with the proverbial knife. Only Elizabeth acknowledged his arrival. "How are you feeling, John?"

"Doc says I'll live," he answered taking a seat next to McKay so he could glare across the table at Kavanagh. Being a fairly observant guy, John noticed right off that someone had given the ass an impressive shiner. A quick glance to the left confirmed Rodney was rubbing his right hand. _Double wow, and my hero._

Using her best 'wise diplomat and head of the expedition' tone, Elizabeth said, "Now that we're all here-"

"I'll handle this," McKay said cutting her off.

As head of the science team, it was McKay's place to do so, but Elizabeth reminded him of how well that had gone the first time with a pointed look from a battered face to reddened knuckles.

"Momentary weakness, won't happen again."

"Dr. Weir, I insist you have this madman arrested!" Kavanagh blurted. "He attacked me!"

"Best moment of my life," Rodney snapped. "And shut up." That's how it started. Elizabeth nodded for McKay to continue. McKay then proceeded to verbally flail Kavanagh alive. Personally, John would have preferred a real whip should he be on the receiving end. Not that he felt sorry for the jerk. Just the opposite – he loved this. Could have sold tickets given the general feelings toward the man, but this was even cooler than Kavanagh finally getting his lumps. This was McKay defending John just like he'd done against the super-Wraith. Only this time John wasn't too busy trying to stay alive to enjoy it.

Unfortunately as the bloodbath continued, more than John's mind grew appreciative. After almost a full year of playing nice whenever McKay was near, John lost control and his cock hardened. By the time Rodney wound down, John felt like he could lift the heavy table with his erection. Not good.

Elizabeth looked less impressed with Rodney's performance. Then again she liked diplomacy not public executions and she lacked his anatomy problem. "Where do you suggest we go from here, Rodney?" she asked once McKay fell silent.

McKay's dark look suggested he'd like to push Kavanagh out of the back of a puddle jumper on a high altitude run. "Until further notice he doesn't work unsupervised."

That set off another uproar, but Rodney won the day. He even graciously offered to write his own letter of reprimand over striking one of his scientists so that Elizabeth didn't need to do it. All in all a masterful performance and John's body hummed with the need to shout 'take me I'm yours.' Irony. Had to hate it. John and McKay had faced death over and over again without John losing control of his libido. Instead McKay's verbal prowess unleashed left John unable to rise from his chair when the others moved to leave. Irony at its bitching best and pure McKay.

"Are you coming, Colonel?" Elizabeth asked.

God, he hoped not. At least not until he got back to his quarters, then all bets were off. "No, I'm good. Think I'll stay here for a few minutes and soak up the atmosphere," he answered oh, so casually, knowing she'd think he was admitting to pushing too hard too soon and needed some time to manage a walk to his quarters.

She gave him a long look. "You're sure you're all right? You look a little flushed."

_Killing me here, Elizabeth._ "I'm good," he repeated giving her his best beseeching look.

She caved. "All right, but you're relieved of duty for the rest of the day. I want you to get some rest."

"Sounds good." _Right, whatever. Just go before things get damp and messy._

Mistake. Big mistake. He never agreed to restrictions. She turned toward him, but Rodney said, "I'll make certain he gets back to his quarters, Elizabeth."

What? No! His brain scrambled for some way to keep her in the room and get McKay out, but they hadn't covered this sort of scenario in military strategy class. Before he could say a word, she was gone and Rodney was shaking his head at him.

"'Soak up the atmosphere?' That's lame even for you."

True enough, but John decided to glare at him anyway.

It intimidated the man so much that McKay chuckled. It had a condescending tone to it, sort of like he was expressing amusement at the antics of a small dog. John opted to glare harder.

Rodney stood up and moved to his side. "Here, let me help you with that," he said and John yelped as those long admired fingers dove to John's crotch and inside his pants. One hard squeeze and John came with a loud groan. Gasping, his mind reeling he could only stare at Rodney as he withdrew his hand. John wanted it back. Now. John wanted a lot of things, but he couldn't find his voice to suggest any of them.

"Mmm," Rodney expressed his appreciation as he licked his own fingers clean. "Tastes good. Want to try it?"

Lips pressed to his before he could answer, then Rodney's tongue invaded, filling his mouth with the taste of Rodney mixed with John's lust. God, Rodney could kiss. He made John's head spin and his body ache with want despite his release. Their lips parted and he tried to collect his thoughts enough to invite Rodney back to his quarters for a much longer exploration.

"Hmm, not bad," Rodney muttered, patted John on the top of his head, then walked out of the room.

*

In… 2…. 3…. 4. Out same fucking count. John remained in the conference room chair, his only movement the expansion and contraction of his chest. Breathe. His body felt shattered by the unexpected, almost brutal orgasm. Slow and deep, keep breathing. Rodney's abrupt departure had left his mind in a similar state. In, can't kill him. Out, really want to. In, Elizabeth won't let me. Out, could talk her into it. In, she might even help. Out, who the fuck did McKay think he was?

The last thought got John to his feet. He'd recovered enough presence of mind to check the state of his uniform before heading out into the public areas. Neat as it ever was. McKay's hand had obviously contained the mess. John shuddered slightly, a whisper of pleasure dancing through him at the flash of memory. It irritated him. He wanted to hang on to his anger, not think about McKay's talented fingers.

Given past offenses committed by the aggravating son of a bitch, a simple trip down the proper memory paths quickly had him stalking through the hallways of Atlantis, his own fingers itching to get a grip around McKay's throat. A post-grope pat on the head? What the hell was John, a kid? No, not a kid. McKay didn't do kids. A dog. A small, yappy annoyance of a dog. He was going to kill him.

He made for McKay's lab never doubting that's where he would find him, despite obviously having misjudged him on several levels. Sparing others humiliation had never been high on McKay's priority list, but John had never thought of him as deliberately cruel. Well, at least not for cruelty's sake. But – Damnit! He could not figure this out and he needed to.

He used the gene to open the lab door, then hold it open as he surveyed the lab. Two techs and Zelenka looked up at him. McKay did not. Irritation surged and gave his voice impressive power as he snapped, "Out! Now!"

"He doesn't actually have the authority to do that," McKay tried to cut him off at the knees, but the techs had already fled.

Zelenka cast an annoyed look at first McKay, then at John. "Yes, but perhaps we will all get lucky and you will kill each other." He walked – making it quite obvious the exact speed and gait were his choice and his choice alone – out the door. "Then maybe we all get some work done!"

John shut the door right on his heels, leaving him alone with McKay. "Bastard."

"Not according to my mother, no."

His eyes narrowed and he wondered if the gene would trigger some lethal thingamabob that would atomize McKay. Nice and quick. No need to hide the body from Weir. "You have anything to say before I kick your ass off my team, then just kick your ass?"

Didn't even earn him a sideways glance. He just kept typing away as if dealing with John only took a few brain cells. "You need me on your team and we both know it."

No, he didn't know it. At least not at the moment. In an hour or two, he might. But not now. "Maybe I've decided I can't work with someone who likes humiliating me for kicks."

"So not what this is about."

It wasn't? John could feel the headache growing. A Rodney McKay special. Always a treat and this looked to be an especially strong one. "Then how about you tell me what is going on, because I'm in the dark here."

"Of course you are."

John hated that tone. McKay used it whenever he wanted to let John know he'd lived down to McKay's expectations. And still with the reading and typing. "McKay shut that thing down or you're going to be picking up the pieces."

"How very mature of you," McKay answered, but genius that he was he must have picked up on the idea that John would love to smash something right about now. He shut down his laptop, turned his chair to face John, then crossed his arms. "Happy?"

"Not even close. You were about to tell me what this is about."

"No, not really."

"McKay!" A bellow. The aggravating prick actually had him bellowing.

"Fine. Payback."

"Payback?" Surely he'd head that wrong, but no, McKay was nodding.

"And, I might add, very appropriate payback at that."

The pain knifed through his frontal lobe. His head was going to explode. He just knew it. "For what?"

"Gross relationship misjudgment."

Fuck. "Damnit, is this about Chaya again? Because if it is, I'm going to go get my gun."

McKay snorted. "Not even close."

John caved in and started rubbing his forehead. The man obviously wanted to kill him. John tried to take some comfort in the fact McKay would be picking bits of John's brain off the walls for weeks. The gun remained a satisfying option, but if he left to get it, John knew he'd calm down too much to use it. Damn. He settled for another bellow. "Then what!?!"

The volume got him a considering look. John had no way of knowing if McKay was considering spilling the beans or how long he could taunt John until a blood vessel burst.

He was coming down on the side of the blood vessel when McKay answered, "'So long, Rodney.'"

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh.'" McKay turned back around and powered up his laptop. "Now, get out of my lab. I have work to do."

"Rodney."

A patented McKay hyper-death glare sliced through him. "Excuse me. What part of 'get out' did you not understand?"

John flinched, but otherwise held his ground. Should have known this was coming. McKay had all but decked him when John had shown up alive. "Rodney, I had to do it."

"Surprisingly enough, I get that. Yet somehow I remain churlish about your departure."

Churlish? "Did you just say 'churlish?"

"Missing the point here."

Oh, yeah, the point. "I take it you think I should have done something differently?"

"It would be difficult not to come up with a better way of saying goodbye than that."

In other words a two-month old could have done a better job of it. "For instance?"

"Oh, I don't know. Mind you, this is just off the top of my head, but you could have told me you loved me. You know, just so I'd have something to remember about you other than your sneaking off."

John flinched again. "Rodney, there wasn't any time." Mistake, and it earned him the dreaded 'oh, really' look.

"And yet surprisingly there was."

"Oh, now I'm supposed to have known –"

"Again, not the point."

Ah, John was getting the rules now. Rodney got to drift, he didn't. Okay, he'd worked with worse restrictions. "I wanted to tell you, but I knew you'd try to stop me."

'Oh, really' ratcheted up to 'I can't believe anyone said something that idiotic.' "Of course I would have you idiot! It's what a man in love does. It does not change the fact that you could have gotten around me and on your suicidal way in 10 seconds or less."

Normally understanding Rodney-speak required a certain amount of patience and sifting through a hell of a lot of technobabble to find the meaning, but this time John homed right in on the pertinent phrase. "Wait, you love me?"

Apparently John's stupidity had exceeded Rodney's ability to match it with a snide look. He threw his hands up in the air to demonstrate his utter disgust. "Of course, I love you, you idiot! Hello, Chaya, jealous much?"

"Oh, that's what that was all about."

Rodney rolled his eyes then trained them back on his laptop screen. "Well, that and my dislike of hidden agendas. Now go away."

What? "Rodney, we just admitted we're in love. Shouldn't we-"

A look of heretofore unseen lethal wattage silenced him. John sighed. "Not the point again?"

"Ah, it seems he is capable of learning after all."

John was so sick of points and non-points he could scream. "Rodney, I think I have a right to know why we're trading insults instead of bodily fluids."

Rodney kept looking at the screen, but after a minute or so he deigned to answer. "I am not about to compound the gross stupidity of loving you by committing myself to a masochistic moron with designs on heroic martyrdom. So find one of your other admirers to scratch your itch."

Okay, getting mad again. "Damnit, McKay, stop acting like I've got 'em lining up in the halls. I am not a slut!" Still no eye contact, but John saw the eyebrow arch in a clear sign of disbelief. He made a strangled sound of frustration, then snapped, "One hand, McKay, I can count on one hand how many men have had my ass. And -," Right around there his ear-brain connection caught up with his mouth. He could practically see the glow from the hot blush that flashed across his skin. "Um."

"Oh, please, it's painfully obvious what you want from me."

Oh. Wait a minute. "Hey! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Got him a glance and an eye roll. "It isn't exactly my ass you've been avoiding staring at during the last year."

Oh, so much for the hand trick. Must have looked at the real thing more often than he'd thought and he should have known the lousy shit would notice him not noticing. "But avoiding in a manly sort of way."

"Yes, yes, you're the soul of machoness. Now shoo."

Shooing did not sound very macho to John. Brooding, yes. Shooing, no. So he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Even threw in a nice scowl to enhance his manly aura. Not that Rodney even bothered to glance in his direction.

John sighed. Okay, he was never going to win a defensive campaign against McKay. He needed to go on the offense and as far away from Rodney's 'points' as possible. He considered the problem for a good half hour, examining it from all sides and making certain his conclusions were utterly foolproof before he decided it was time to re-engage the enemy. "Rodney?"

"Are you still here?"

John's turn to roll his eyes, but he masterfully refrained from getting sidetracked into a series of one-liners. He needed to storm his opponent's defenses, not get led around by the nose. "I just want to go over this one more time. Then I'll leave."

Rodney sighed. "I should be so lucky," he muttered, but swiveled around to face John again.

Heartened by this progress, John ignored the jab. "Okay, you're so fond of points, let's take 'em one at a time."

"Fine, just speed it up. I have work to do."

Of course he did. Didn't mean it couldn't wait though. Focus. Stay focused. "1. You love me."

"To my eternal chagrin, yes."

"2. I love you." Wait for it.

"Proving you do have a small measure of intelligence under that hair gel, yes."

Gosh, thanks. "3. I am a, " how did he put it, oh, yeah, "' a masochistic moron with designs on heroic martyrdom.'" So not.

Rodney smiled. That was John's beloved – always ready to beam with pleasure at his own witticisms.

"4. You on the other hand are a hypochondriac with an ego so huge it borders on delusions of godhood."

Rodney glared at him, obviously not seeing turnabout as fair play. "I have a number of documented health problems and a healthy sense of self-confidence."

Right. "I don't see number 4, changing and number 5 would be that you see number 3 as a permanent condition, too."

The glare stayed in place, but Rodney nodded. "And that's about it. Bye."

"Not so fast, McKay. You forgot about numbers 6 through 8."

Up with the eyebrows. "What numbers 6 through 8?"

John took a mental deep breath, then launched his attack. "6. Not wanting to commit to me or not, you want me alive and your ego is too big to trust anyone else to look after me when I'm on a mission."

Rodney frowned.

"7. Even if you did leave the team," or John kicked his ass off of it, "Atlantis is a very small place which means there's no way for us to really avoid getting caught up in whatever trouble the other is in."

The frown deepened.

"8. Which makes the final point, that no matter what we do we have no way of avoiding or even minimizing the impact of numbers 1 through 7. Given this, is there any reason to go through all of that and not have frequent, not to mention life-affirming sex whenever your stupid points aren't driving us both nuts?"

Rodney rewarded him with the hoped for 'shut up, I'm thinking' stare. John could practically see the little wheels turning. And turning. And turning. Damnit, he didn't have to try so hard to weasel around the facts. But eventually even Rodney had to admit defeat. He sighed, "I got nothing."

Score! John grinned. Triumph made his headache vanish and restored his benevolent, not to mention sex-hungry, soul. "So beg my forgiveness for being a jackass, then we can both get naked."

Rodney shot him a look of pure dislike. Obviously the super-geek did not like being out maneuvered by a grunt and they lost another few minutes while the bastard considered John's condition for achieving horizontal bliss. But the lure of sex must have finally won out. "I'm sorry, John. I was callous and insensitive. Please, oh, please take your clothes off now so I can fuck you into next week."

Okay, zero points for sincerity, a zillion for motivation. John glared at him, but stripped with an efficiency that would undoubtedly earn him a comment or two about too much practice. Some day. Fortunately for both of them, even Rodney seemed to have too much sense to risk the clothes going back on for the sake of a mere insult at this particular time. But John had no doubt the insult had been filed away for future reference. He gave Rodney a 'you are such hard work' glare.

He got back a glance that he would have sworn said 'look who's talking.' John decided he really needed to stop writing dialog for looks because the whole thing was getting a little out of hand. Then he found he had something better to worry about. "I can't help but noticing that I'm the only naked person in this room." Nor did he seem to have Rodney's full attention.

"Just trying to remember where – Ah, yes." Rodney started across the room, his destination a row of cabinets, not John. That was bad. On the good side of things, Rodney stopped along the way to pat an empty lab table. "Up you go," he announced, then continued on his way.

Up you go? "McKay, you smooth talker."

Rodney didn't even look at him. Just started rummaging in the cabinet, while he said, "Fine, stretch out on the floor if you like. Forgive me for assuming you had a lab table fantasy you might want-"

"I'm upping, I'm upping already." Bastard, and what did it say about John that he found all this fussing hot as hell? Fall in love with Rodney McKay; discover a whole new level of foreplay.

"Ah, here it is," Rodney announced, pulling out a white box. First aid kit.

"You know the whole point of that thing is to be able to grab it fast in crisis."

"Again with the complaining," Rodney muttered, setting the kit on the lab table next to the one John sat on. "Shouldn't you be basking in some sort of pre-sex glow?"

"Trying, but still the only one not wearing clothes."

"Well, I can make the wait far more worth while if I have the proper supplies," he answered rummaging around in the kit.

John liked the sound of that.

"Hmm, this could prove interesting," Rodney muttered, lifting out a roll of gauze.

Sounded more like he was talking to himself, but John decided it warranted a response. "Not on the first date, McKay." Even if the thought of a little bondage did sort of make his toes curl, while simultaneously making him want to run for the hills. Being at McKay's mercy was a truly terrifying thought.

Rodney smirked, dropped the gauze, then lifted out a tube of KY. "This more what you had in mind?"

His mouth went dry and his cock got so hard so fast he made a soft gasping sound. "Bastard."

"I thought we went over that already."

John fell back against the table with a loud groan. What had Han Solo said in the first movie? Oh, yeah, 'No reward is worth this.' John was beginning to feel the man's pain. Then at his darkest moment of despair – okay, that was over the top, but definitely at the height of his frustration -- he heard the sound of cloth rustling. He propped himself up on his elbows and grinned at the sight of Rodney finally stripping.

Since coming to Atlantis, McKay had worked hard at getting into shape. The body he slowly revealed wasn't muscle-magazine centerfold worthy, but it was firm and strong and absolutely mouthwatering. John practically came at the sight. Especially once the pants came off. A handful of 'too disgusting to go back to quarters' showers had given him a glimpse or two of McKay in all his glory, but the thick, long cock rising up to meet John's gaze was the stuff of wet dreams. McKay smiled, but it was a gentle smile. For him. "Like what you see?"

Not trusting his voice, John nodded and sat up. He reached out and apparently Rodney had finished with the domineering teasing, because he moved to stand between John's dangling legs, then they kissed. Long, slow and deep. John knew he could come from this alone. He squirmed, fearing he'd do precisely that and ruin everything. Still he couldn't prevent a needy whimper when Rodney drew back, ending the contact.

"Beautiful," Rodney murmured, the side of his thumb caressing John's jaw.

"I love you," John whispered, his forehead settling against his lover's. He wanted to say the words with feeling once before Rodney took him. "For such a long time."

Another gentle smile. "Lie back."

Not exactly number one on the list of responses he'd wanted to hear, but it was a damned close second. He settled onto the black surface, pushing backward enough to give his feet purchase with his knees spread wide. Rodney made preparing him good. Slick finger here, a kiss there, hands soothing and stretching. So good. Too good. He wanted to come with Rodney inside him, but he was rapidly losing the battle with the need for release. "Rodney," he whispered, shifting to hook his legs around Rodney's hips.

McKay pulled him closer, his cock pushing against John's entrance. He looked into John's eyes, then said, "I have wanted you from the moment you activated the chair in Antarctica."

John struggled to find his voice, something flip about only being wanted for his Ancient gene flitting through his mind, but Rodney pushed into him and he lost the ability to speak in a wave of pleasure, his entire body screaming Hail Mary. In. Out. Deep. Slow. He kept both his own and Rodney's hands away from his cock, wanting to enjoy the sweet rhythm for as long as possible, wanting it to never end.

"God, you're insatiable," Rodney groaned, pulling him up to kiss again. Awkward and hot as hell.

Voice still beyond functioning, he groaned into the mouth pressed to his. His hips were half off the table, his own weight pushing Rodney even further into him. More. Harder. In his mind he babbled or maybe he did use his voice. He couldn't tell. Couldn't focus on anything but Rodney pounding into him. Everything he'd ever fantasized about and more. And still he clung to his lover, urged him on every way he knew how. Would feel this ride for days. Wanted to feel it for weeks. God. Rodney in him, taking him, filling him. More. Please. More.

He screamed when his climax roared through him with what seemed like no warning. Screamed in glorious release and sorrow that it had to end. He did not pass out, but his entire body went limp from the overload. Not enough energy left in him to make a decent snack for a Wraith runt, he still managed a smile when Rodney stiffened and came inside him. He wanted to snap, 'put that back' when his lover pulled free, and it irritated him to no end that Rodney had enough energy to push John more firmly onto the table. Then again, McKay hadn't had his second orgasm in less than an hour.

"Move over," Rodney muttered, pushing at him.

"Get your own table." Ah, mouth back in action. Always handy when dealing with McKay.

"Not much on the afterglow, John?"

Afterglow. Translation, cuddling could be involved. He managed a graceless flop to one side. Not pretty, but it got the job done. He considered purring when strong arms pulled him against a broad warm chest. Nice.

Trust McKay not to leave well enough alone. "John?"

"Hmm?"

"I can survive losing you."

Stung a little. Not that he ever wanted Rodney to die, but 'I can survive' had an annoying practicality to it. "And some people say romance is dead."

The arms tightened. "Missing the point again."

"Do that a lot, don't I?"

"Constantly."

"McKay-"

"The point is I can survive, but I'd really prefer not to."

John snuggled closer. "Mmm, suicide pact? Been borrowing Zelenka's Russian paperbacks again?"

"No, not a suicide pact, you idiot. A survival pact. You have to stay alive if I do."

Novel idea. "Vice versa?" He didn't much like the idea of McKay not surviving if   
John made the effort to live.

"Of course, vice versa. What sort of pact would it be if it wasn't vice versa?" Ah, the sweet sound of exasperated condescension. Music to John's ears.

"Okay, I agree, but I'm going to be really pissed if you don't hold up your end of things."

"No worries. I plan to live to be 200. But I really don't think I can trust you. Maybe we should move in together. You know, just so I can keep an eye on you."

Move in? "Damn, Rodney, you really do love me, don't you?"

Rodney's fingers caressed his shoulder. His voice softened to match the touch. "Yes, John, I really do."

Cool. John smiled and settled in for a long lazy nap in the arms of the man who loved him. Wait. "Rodney?"

"Hmm?"

"You have to convince Weir 'don't ask/don't tell is crap."

Rodney snorted, jostling John's 'pillow.' "As if that's going to be a problem."

John turned that over in his mind and his eyes narrowed. "Elizabeth already knows about us, doesn't she?"

"She might have muttered something about us deserving one another the last time you went off to play hero and I had to clean up the mess."

"I do not play hero."

"Of course you don't."

For the first time since puberty, John had finally found someone he loved and who loved him. His soulmate. His beloved. His 'could there be a more annoying pain in the ass' love of his life. "Rodney?"

"Now what?"

"Is there a higher power than Murphy's Law?" 'cause if there were, John really wanted to lodge a complaint about this whole irony thing. Right after they had sex again.

End


End file.
